


With Every Fruit, Its Seeds

by glorious_abyss



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-07-10 07:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_abyss/pseuds/glorious_abyss
Summary: On the outside, Noah Vogel is a wealthy, shy, university student. Without his medication however, he is haunted by hallucinations of his deceased sister. A chance encounter with a psychology student from the other side of the tracks throws him into a semester like one he's never known, and when his sister insists on joining him, he has to decide who he will have to cut out of his life for good.





	1. Cranberries

**Author's Note:**

> Characters that appear in Chapter 1:
> 
> Noah: APH Switzerland  
> Lars: APH Netherlands  
> Ludvig: APH Germany  
> Emma: APH Belgium  
> Eva: APH Liechtenstein

_Who eats dried cranberries with roasted potatoes and duck?_

An unfamiliar pop song played from the speakers overhead. The man read his shopping list, read it again, and read it upside down for good measure. His cart contained the items that lived on his list; a light bag of potatoes, canned green beans from the discount rack, miscellaneous minor ingredients, also from the discount rack. Then, at the bottom of his scribbled mess were the words, 'Dried cranberries'.

They were in his hand, too. He gripped the plastic packaging. His index finger tapped against it as his frustration grew. The man wasn't the type of person to stray away from his list, but, the mysterious reasoning behind the bagged fruit was mind boggling. Hell, he couldn't recall even writing it down! He knew himself too well, however, and tossed the questionable cranberries into his collection of groceries. The one time he debated their fate in his possession was when he placed them on the conveyor belt to purchase them, but he found a kind of beauty in the way they moved alone with his other ingredients.

Their mysticism became lackluster when it was strown on the kitchen counter amidst the rest of the groceries. Lars was the first to notice the outlier. He caught the man's eyes and stoically pointed at the cranberries.

"Were _those_ on the list?" Lars' grizzly voice asked. He was a good foot taller than the man he was interrogating. His blond hair was pushed back, his handsome face was clean-shaven, his loafers were never dirtied. Perhaps it was his perfect posture that intimidated the man. Though, their three years together made him know better.

He shrugged the peacoat from his shoulders, and when cradled in his arms, it was hung over a nearby coat rack. The warmth of the apartment melted away the New Year's nip from his frail body.

"Noah-"

"No, they weren't," the man, now named Noah, snapped.

"I thought you were trying to save money."

Noah's breath hitched, his face turning porcelain. 'Damn Lars, he really knows everything!'

"I bought them to snack on. They were only a dollar. I can downsize my coffee on Monday."

He rushed through his lie. They escaped his tongue before he could decipher what his mind was hurling out, and Lars' furrowed brows showed how absurd his lie must have sounded. Before an answer could be spoken, the overwhelming scent of floral shampoo passed him. A petite, auburn-haired woman approached the counter and separated Noah and Lars with her body. She flashed a cat-like grin at the shorter man.

"Hey Noah! Did you get everything I asked? Oh, you're so cold!" She clasped his face between her slender hands, bringing the color back to his cheeks. She glanced at the spread of items in front of the trio.

"Cranberries?" She questioned, removing her hands from his face and filling them again with the bag. "Those don't go with duck and potato!"

"They're for me," Noah said hurriedly.

"Hear that, Emma? They're for him, because he's selfish." Lars smirked and ran his hand through his gelled hair. He swaggered out of the kitchen before Noah could reply.

A door slammed, and the echo of the man's words ended with it. A muffled techno beat erupted from Lars' bedroom.

"Don't worry, you're not selfish as long as you share them with me." Emma clutched the cranberries against her chest. She affectionately poked Noah's nose. He couldn't help but release a nervous laugh as he wordlessly gazed at her lips.

"Have as many as you want," he said, letting his eyes travel down to the bag. "I can't even remember why I bought them, if I'm being honest."

"There's nothing wrong with a little splurge. It isn't like you spent thousands on it." She turned the bag over and mumbled the price. "Yeah, don't feel bad!"

Now," she began, thrusting the fruit into his chest, "Our dad's friend is on his way. Get the Hell out of my kitchen so I can start cooking!"

* * *

They were three bright, social-climbing international students. Lars, Emma, and Noah shared a three bedroom apartment in the heart of an American college town. Despite the snide stereotypes based on their affluence, the trio worked hard to maintain a harmonious home life away from home. They knew each other's schedules well enough to know whether or not they wanted to abide by them, and their assigned roles in the housekeeping game helped keep their individual, quirky habits at bay. Noah liked to think their apartment was warmed by companionship. There were times, however, when he (and, hopefully, the others) wondered what would happen if they delved past the surface level. It had to reveal pure chaos; after all, they were just three chained dogs gnashing at each other for the steak. The thought of his friends simultaneously being his competitors made him anxious.

Anxious, however, was an understatement.

The few cranberries he did eat piled into his throat. He popped a handful into his mouth to settle his stomach before the guest of honor had arrived, but instead they left him with regret. Despite his sudden tension, he drifted through the first half of the dinner. He made an attempt at mimicking the other suit-clad men at the table, even with his brain on fire.

"I hope you are enjoying your meal, _Monsieur_." Noah could hear the slime in Lars' tone. Lars had spent half the evening talking about the trips he went on every weekend. He spent an early New Year's in Maryland. A couple weekends before he was exploring Manhattan.

The guest helped a forkful of food into his mouth. The short hairs on his chin made Noah's skin itch.

"I am, Mister Lars. My, it is delicious!"

"I apologize in advance if you do find something unsatisfactory. Our shopper of the household is, to put it simply, stingy."

Noah dropped his fork and let it dance on his plate. All eyes at the table turned towards him, then back at their dishes once he mumbled an apology.

He and Lars locked eyes before the latter turned to face their guest again. Damn that Lars! Even he admitted once that American produce tasted the same as their questionable canned messes. The Dutchman didn't instruct him to go above and beyond for that night's meal.

"No, no! Ingredients do not matter as much as how they are used! My compliments to the chef," he beamed, sending Emma a wink. All Noah wanted to do was finish his meal, clean his dish, and retire to his bedroom like he did every Sunday night. Instead, he was stuck awkwardly wiping his lips with his napkin, and looking over the guests as he did so.

Seated across from him was the obnoxious, Dutch, Lars Jansen. He kept his head low with a seemingly permanent smirk plastered on his lips. Next to Noah was his younger sister, Emma Jansen, who he knew had to have been giving him quick, nonchalant glances with those curious eyes of hers. Her brother had already lectured Noah on behaving in front of the guest, and the tension between the trio simmered.

And it always would. As the single son of Swiss politicians, it was written in Noah's fate to assimilate with his wealthy acquaintances; his parents' friends were his friends too. When Noah informed his family that he wanted to study business in America, his father was already in contact with Mr. Jansen to find an apartment for him and Lars to share throughout their schooling. Barely talking to each other outside of occasional holiday parties, the ice between the two young adults didn't break until Emma was added onto their lease a year after.

To his left was the German son of a Jansen family friend, Ludvig Beilschmidt. He attended a different college than the three, though the childhood stories he shared always included Lars. He came over religiously, mostly to chat with his friend. Despite that, Noah liked him; he was quiet, straightforward, and spoke his language. Whether or not Ludvig could recall the man's name outside of their weekly dinner parties was another topic of discussion.

Finally, at the head of their crowded dining room table was the guest of honor, Francis Bonefoy. The charming, flirtatious, family friend of the Jansens made the executive decision to visit the siblings of the house during his trip to the United States. It would be treacherous not to; the Jansens were sponsors of his restaurants, after all.

"Lars, you are a lucky, lucky man. I would do anything to have a sister, especially one as beautiful and talented as yours." Francis mixed his glass of wine and took a sip. He pointed the drink at Ludvig. "You're so quiet, sir. Do you have siblings?"

Noah noticed the German's expression change. He pulled his blazer closer to himself before he answered.

"I am an only child," he admitted, biting his lip.

"Ah! Another lonely, only child." Francis leaned forward and rested his prickly chin in his hands. "I always wish I had a sibling. Surely having a brother or sister would help ease the pain of wandering this world!"

His eyes fluttered shut. A dreamy expression crossed his face before he snapped back to reality. "Mister Vogel. I am afraid I do not know much about your family. Politics have never been an interest of mine. Care to educate me?"

The man in question felt his heart skip a beat and he gulped. "I have a sister."

The meal swam in his stomach. His fingers jerked, and his skin felt like a cage. The room shook. Holding it in was impossible. Even if he tried to replace the spoken phrase with his glass of water he knew it would have come out regardless. He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth, but the damage was done. His roommate's eyes shot daggers at him. Emma and Ludvig kept their eyes on their plates, though their hands stopped moving.

" _Noah_ ," Lars hissed. " _Cut it out_."

The Frenchman's lips moved, but his heavy accent was processed as static. Only Lars' threatening whisper could penetrate through his thoughts. The taste of cranberries was reintroduced into his throat.

Noah straightened his back and turned to face Francis. "She's back home in Switzerland," he began, collecting his voice before it shattered completely. "But I don't think now is the time to discuss my family."

His face was moist. If it wasn't for Emma's hand lightly grazing his under the table, he would have excused himself from the party and maneuvered the escape route to his bedroom.

* * *

When their plates were once again visible and dessert was served, Noah silently retired from the group. The three men conversed over cigars in their living room, while Emma finished cleaning the piling dishes that the two had started. He found solace in his bedroom. He didn't need to be invited into the space, nor did he feel obligated to allow anyone in, which he rarely did. His hand fumbled with the lightswitch upon opening the door. The man slid inside, almost soundlessly, and closed it behind him. He faced the entrance and listened; Lars had to have been discussing him, he just knew it. What he heard instead however took him by surprise.

"Big Brother?"

The familiar voice froze his bones. It was light and dreamy, and could only belong to one person. Filled with a sudden excitement, he shifted himself to face his bedroom.

Standing in the center was a teenage girl. A cheeky grin was plastered on her face, her green eyes watching him while her hands remained behind her back. Her dress was baggy and contrasted with her bare face.

"Eva?" he called, slowly pacing forward to meet her in the middle of the room. Curiously, his hands went to her forearms, then her soft, rosy cheeks. She hadn't grown much physically, and her once long, blonde hair was cut above her shoulders.

She threw herself into the man's arms. He wrapped her in a tight hug, and he released a sigh of relief.

"I missed you so much," she mumbled into his chest.

"Me too, Eva, me too." He felt like laughing, and he almost did.

"You're the best brother ever, okay?"

A knock interrupted their heartfelt reunion.

"Can I come in?" He heard the door push open, but every instinct in him told him to stay in Eva's arms. Emma's light footsteps were cut short after the door creaked.

"Oh, Noah." He couldn't hear the woman approach him, though he did accept her arms wrapping around his torso. She sunk into his back, and when he opened his eyes, Eva was gone. Noah's empty hands were placed over his dressed chest. They numbly trickled down to clasp his friend's fingers.

"It's been seven years, Noah."

"I know."

"We all miss her."

Wordless, he gently squeezed her hands. He was too exhausted to shrug her off. They held onto each other as the clock on his nightstand ticked. He couldn't keep track of the time, but he knew they were finished when Emma slid out of his sweaty grip and shut the door behind her.

The bag of cranberries lay undisturbed on his bed. He made his way towards them, the crackling sound of the plastic making him jump once they were in his grip. Noah cocked his head to the now open space behind him.

_'Eva loved dried cranberries, didn't she_?'


	2. What One Wears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for implied self harm/overdose

His dream left him mangled. He spent the night tossing and turning in his sheets, only to find that most of them left his bed overnight. Sweat drenched his pillows. The visions he endured were ominously familiar, but by the time Noah fought his way awake, the imagery had slipped his mind.

He drank his coffee in his bedroom. It was instant coffee, but there was little that could make him ignore the fact that he was awake and restless at eight-thirty. The idea to enjoy his morning beverage in solitude wasn't a usual option for him, especially with Lars' strict cleanliness rules for maintaining the apartment. Noah wasn't in the mood for confrontation. It was a Monday morning. Dirty snow coated his view of the complex's dumpster.

The half-emptied clay mug was paired with a bottle of pills. Noah unscrewed the cap and tapped the medication into the palm of his hand. He hesitated, then, sighing, he slid the pill back into its container and hurriedly drank the rest of his coffee. It burned his throat and waded in his stomach, but at least he didn't have a drink for his mundane tablet.

Memories from the night before came and went. The juicy bird meat, the tie that choked him as he ate, Lars' hushed intimidation, Emma's soft hands; bits and pieces blended together to form an abstract picture of the dinner party. Overall, he felt bad.

He set his mug on his side table, then rose to his feet and stretched. Eyes half opened, he groaned while his muscles pulled. From his blurred vision he spotted a box protruding from a shelf in his closet. It was an ordinary shoe-box; the grainy, cardboard lid was taped shut, and the mundane appearance blended in well with his earthy clothing hanging under it. His feet moved on their own, and before he knew it, his fingers were peeling the clear adhesive.

Inside the box was a time capsule of sorts. A stale smell coated the various artifacts that met his eyes. He cleared dried lily petals from a photograph of a young girl. She was blond like him, and her hair was tied in braids with purple ribbons. Circled around her portrait was a beaded bracelet. The pink and purple plastic pieces stayed intact during its years of hibernation; when he thought of it, he couldn't remember the last time he opened the box and looked through the memories inside. He brought the bracelet out of the box and dangled it between his fingers, the bottle of pills still in his left hand. Noah read out the letters that hung in the middle of the circle:

_E-V-A_

Before he was aware of his action, the beads were wrapped around his wrist. The man hadn't grown much in seven years. The bracelet dug into his skin, but the snug embrace gave him a sense of comfort. Lost in thought, he was abruptly interrupted by his phone vibrating on his nightstand. Hurriedly, he set the box back on its shelf, and rushed over to answer the sudden caller.

"Hey Noah! Are you in the mood to spend money?"

Roderich Edelstein's distinct accent rang in his ears. Noah met his Austrian peer during his first semester of university. The dark-haired, spectacled man appeared presentable when the Swiss man conversed with him during their political science course, but as their acquaintanceship turned into friendship, he soon learned how exhausting the musician could be.

"What kind of question is that?" he asked as he opened the drawer to his nightstand and slid the bottle of pills inside. He knew not to question the quirky man's decision to call him right after the sun rose.

"Are you rehearsing for a play? You say that all the time. Anyways, I'm going to that new clothing store on the boardwalk. You should come with me. We can find a replacement for that horrid jacket of yours-"

"I'm saving money this year."

A pronounced _tsk tsk_ was heard. "Come on, Noah, again? You're going to be living in a box with half a million in your bank account if you keep talking like that."

"I'm not feeling well," Noah blurted out. He faked a cough, only realizing afterwards how forced it sounded.

"That's because you need a new jacket that will actually keep you warm."

"Like the boardwalk is going to be any warmer? It's January."

"Brunch is on me. I'll meet you at the train station at ten." Roderich hung up, leaving the other man groaning into the silent phone. This wasn't how he wanted to begin the new year. Then again, it wasn't like he had a reason _not_ to meet up with him; with the spring semester not beginning for three more weeks, his planner was empty. He took a final look around his room before stripping from his pajamas. He cursed his inability to say 'No'. He cursed the hideous mole on Roderich's chin. He kept finding things to curse until the bracelet got caught on the threads of his sweater, causing it to pill.

' _Fuck_ ,' he hissed as he approached the last strand of his patience. The phone call had made him forget about the beads on his wrist. It was a fortunate mistake for him to remember it; the colors clashed with his juniper turtleneck, and he was certain Roderich would notice. The man tossed the bracelet into the drawer that held his medication He slammed it shut, played with his overgrown bob cut, and left for the kitchen to return his mug.

Noah turned the corner when he reached the end of the hallway and almost collided with Emma. She still wore her disheveled pajamas, as did Lars, who was seated at the table in front of them. His back was facing the two, and Emma took the opportunity to yank the mug out of Noah's hands and set it down on the counter.

"Good morning," she greeted. "I made waffles. Help yourself."

Lars flicked the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray at his elbow. He glanced up from his phone and mumbled a, "Good morning," but paused when he took a good look at Noah.

"Dressed already? Where are you going so early in the morning?"

Noah cleared his throat, emphasizing the smoke that filled the air of the supposedly spotless apartment. "Actually, that's why I came in here. I wanted to let you both know I'm meeting with Roderich."

"Oh, no waffles?" The woman hummed.

"No waffles for Noah. He'd rather hang out with some art fag-"

"Hey!" He caught Lars' slight jump. He didn't mean to bark at him, but he couldn't deny that watching the other man react made him feel slightly better. "Don't call him that!"

"He has a girlfriend anyways," he added in, much softer this time.

"You can be with a girl and still be a faggot. Isn't that the same guy who has to ask his parents for money because he can't stop spending it on dumb shit?"

Noah rubbed his temples. He tightened his jaw in case anything else wanted to slip out. His mind was racing.

"Not everyone is as fortunate as we are," the Swiss man began. "Me personally, I'm glad my parents don't have a reason to watch my money."

"That's because they know you don't spend it." The Dutchman took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled smoke rings. "Everyone knows that. Hell, your parents know more about you than they do their own citizens."

He stood up and brushed past a reddening Noah. His brood figure stopped at the entrance to the hallway, and he cocked his head to face the man.

"Cash is king," he murmured. Noah could taste the tobacco rolling off his tongue. "The only way to make money is to spend it. Live a little."

With that, Lars continued to his bedroom. Noah cringed at the slamming door that followed. He watched as Emma cautiously followed her brother's trail and stopped in front of her roommate.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" she asked, a shy smile playing on her lips.

"Could be better."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A blush crept across his colorless cheeks. "Uh, no, sorry."

"I understand." She glanced at the wooden floor before speaking again. When their eyes met again, Noah could tell her usual spark was missing from them.

"Don't let my brother get you down."

"I'm not-"

"I think your decision to save money is very smart!" She exclaimed, not seeming to notice that she interrupted him.

"I, uh, thank you." The Swissman found that he couldn't keep his mind in order. He wanted to hurry the conversation along and run out to embrace the brisk January air, but his brain couldn't tell his legs how to move.

"Hey," she cooed, reaching for his forearm. "Are you okay?"

That was the trigger for Noah's rationality to kick in. He pulled himself out of her hovering grip, much to the surprise of both of them.

"I have to get going," he said, and with that he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

* * *

Noah was blessed. He lived in a cobblestone apartment in the heart of the city, with a train station five minutes away on foot. He attended an excellent university. His parents paid his rent and tuition. The small circle of friends he had consisted of other international students who helped each other navigate the diversity of the United States. His personal checking account held tens of thousands of dollars for, as his parents called it, "leisurely activities". He had the bare minimum to survive, plus some. And yet, no amount of money in the world could prevent him from befriending someone like Roderich.

"Do these colors make me look like I'm coming from a Dada-themed funeral?"

Noah mentally sighed. The Austrian had erupted from a dressing room stall and now stood a few feet away from him. He donned a blazer with a collage eye texture on the material. Every time Roderick moved, he could feel the choppy, dilated pupils watching him.

"Take that off. It's making me nervous."

"Do you think Elizabeta would wear the matching dress? We'd look like a power couple if we matched at the music hall, right-"

"I really don't care, Roderich."

"Don't be like that," he said, pulling the jacket off of himself. He draped it over his arm and struck a pose in the full-length mirror next to him.

While admiring his reflection, he asked, "How is your love-seeking expedition going with Lars' sister?"

Noah choked on his spit. He rose to his feet and found himself in the mirror with Roderich. Dark bags hung under his eyes, and the sea-breeze outside ruffled his hair.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Noah. It isn't a good look on you."

The man watched the other's reflection in silence. His fists clenched. If he knew Roderich was going to make jabs at him, he would have never revealed his feelings towards Emma. Given, the ambition that was delivered by the crisp air that came from the beginning of a new school year made him stupidly pour his feeble heart out, but that was months prior. If Roderich had plans for a double date hidden up his sleeve, Noah wasn't going to buy it.

Crestfallen, he stated, "It doesn't matter. I'm graduating next spring and going back to Switzerland. I'll probably never see her again. I shouldn't even bother."

Another _tsk tsk_ followed. "Wow, it must suck to not believe in the power of love."

' _Is this why he wanted me to come shopping with him, so he could berate me_?' Noah thought to himself. Before his temper could boil, he swung around on his heels and started out of the changing area.

"I'll meet you at the cafe," he announced to the open air. "And you better not have that hideous _thing_ with you when you get your ass over there!"

Unfortunately for Noah, The Austrian did in fact purchase the provocative blazer. Fortunately for Noah, he kept it in the shopping bag while they ate. The two had settled on a cafe that bordered the city's bay. They conversed over coffee, or at least Roderich did. The sky showed hints of sunlight through the dull clouds hovering above the stationed boats. His teal-green eyes were hypnotized by the bobbing waves, though something about the sheets of ice coating the frigid water from outside the window nauseated him. The crashing and returning of the water played through his mind on a loop until that night, when he sat alone in his bedroom, waiting for the trio's dinner to be delivered by a locally-owned pizza shop.

He lied on his side, with one hand underneath his pillow and another toying with the beaded bracelet.

"Is that the bracelet I made you?" Eva asked. She sat cross-legged below him. He couldn't say when she had entered, nor was he too bothered to question why she was in his bedroom in the first place. Noah dangled the piece of jewelry over the side of the bed as a response.

"You kept it this whole time. You're so sweet." The girl slowly stood. She laced her fingers around the bracelet, then pulled them away. "I miss playing with you."

"I'm too old to play," he replied while rising to a sitting position. Remembering who he was speaking to, he added, "But not for you, obviously."

"Can we play a game right now?"

They stared at each other. Teal eyes on teal, their quivering lips mirrored each other.

Next thing he knew, he was in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> First off, I'd like to thank you for reading the first two chapters of this fic. The good news is that this chapter, as well as a couple more, are pre-written since this is a reupload. The bad news (for you, at least) is that I'm back in school. This means updates for all of my fics will be much slower. I can't say when the next update will be, but I'll say that I should have more time starting around Christmas.
> 
> If you're a student, then happy studying! If you're not a student, then happy whatever it is you may do! Thank you for reading, and have a great day! :)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey all! This is a reupload of a fic I posted a while ago on ff.net. I only posted the first two (?) chapters, but I quickly took it down because I had second thoughts about it (I also thought it was too dark at the time). This will also be posted on ff under the same name.


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